I walk into the woods to find a tree
A tree that must be tall with perfect view
A tree that must have dense leaves to hide me
To help me carry out what I will do
I reach around and clasp my climber stand
Nervous about the climb that I must make
I get into position bow in hand
Being silent because of what’s at stake
In the brush I hear a tiny sparrow
The noise makes me think I will have good luck
Noise, I quickly load a camo arrow
Underneath my tree a monstrous brown Buck
I draw back finally it is my day
The bow string snaps, the hunter has his prey